


The Perfect Solution

by UsaChan1997



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dubcon Kissing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fluff, Ingrid Brandl Galatea - Freeform, Light Angst, Mentioned Black Eagles Students (Fire Emblem), Mentioned Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem), Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Mercedes Von Mertritz, Minor Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Minor Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Mutual Pining, Pining, Smut, Soft Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, Sylvain and Dimitri B Support, Teacher-Student Relationship, dimileth, lorenz - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UsaChan1997/pseuds/UsaChan1997
Summary: Following Dima and Sylvain's B-Support, Sylvain enlists Byleth's help to chase away Dimitri's admirer.





	1. No One But Her

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an extension of Sylvain and Dimitri's B support, where Dimitri is TOO GOOD at picking up women because he's an earnest bean, so Sylvain promises to help him out. I thought it would be cute Dimileth fodder if it takes a little convincing for this girl to leave him alone. Takes place around Chapter 9 (Sometime before the Goddess Tower).

_“Relax.” Sylvain clapped a reassuring hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, hoping to ease his friend’s worry. “I’ll sort this whole thing out real easy. All we have to do is figure out how to make this girl lose interest in you. And making girls lose interest is what I’m best at. You just wait right there, and I’ll fix everything.”_

_“You’re a good man, Sylvain. I’m sorry to do this to you. Good luck!”_

_~~~_

“Look, I’m sorry, but his Princeliness didn’t really understand what he was saying.” Sylvain put on his best ‘knowing big brother’ smile as he met the girl’s impetuous gaze. “He’s a sweet guy, but really oblivious when it comes to women’s feelings.” He leaned closer and gave her a wink. “Unlike me.”

“Tsk.” The girl, what was her name, Lucy? Probably Lucy. Probably Lucy made a noise of disgust and folded her arms. “Listen, Sylvain. I know you’ll hit on anything vaguely female, but I’m only interested in the Prince. You say that he doesn’t like me, but you didn’t see his face when he said those sweet things. When we shared a meal by candlelight in the dining hall. He was so open and sincere, how could I not fall in love?”

“I’m telling you, dear, you’re mistaken. Dimitri likes someone else.” Sylvain insisted. “He’s head over heels, in fact.”

“Really?” Probably Lucy still didn’t seem convinced. “Prove it.”

~~~

“Oh, Professoooor.”

Sylvain poked his head through the open door to Byleth’s personal quarters, noting the mountain of papers—presumably to be graded—on her desk and the little crease between her brows their instructor always wore when she was deep in concentration-mode.

“Professor,” Sylvain repeated, crossing the threshold. “can you hear me?”

Byleth let out a sigh. “I was hoping you’d go away.”

“Professor, I’m wounded. Deeply.” Sylvain mock-swooned. “That insult… it sounds like you’ve been spending too much time with Felix.”

Byleth couldn’t keep the micro-smile from her lips as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “What can I do for you, Sylvain? I do hope you won’t request to hide in here again. I am of the firm belief that you should take responsibility for offending young women, rather than ‘waiting for the problem to solve itself’, as you put it.”

Sylvain let out a dry laugh. “Nope, no hiding today. Actually, it’s Dimitri who’s having lady problems.”

That earned him her full attention. She removed her reading glasses and gazed at him curiously. “Dimitri? That’s unusual. What happened?”

“It’s a bit of a long story, Professor. Suffice it to say that he underestimated the power of pick-up lines and now there’s an overly-eager girl who won’t leave him alone.”

“Pick-up lines… that sounds out of character—” She came to a sudden realization and caught the red-head’s eye. “So it’s your fault, then.”

“Harsh,” Sylvain grinned. “But not wrong. I promised I could discourage her, will you help me?”

“Me?” Byleth’s eyes widened. “I don’t see how I could be of help—”

“Don’t sweat it. All I need you to do is spar with His Highness this afternoon. Can you promise me, Professor?” Sylvain took her hand with an earnestness in his expression that was rare for him.

Byleth gently pushed it away. “Fine. If it will help, I’ll spar with Dimitri at the training grounds this afternoon.”

“Make it the courtyard,” Sylvain corrected. “Please?”

Byleth quirked an eyebrow, but nodded her consent, donning her glasses and turning back to her papers. “I hope you’re not up to anything.”

Sylvain chuckled as he left her, muttering under his breath, “Ah, but aren’t I always?”

~~~

“Dimitri, are you ready?”

The crown prince of Faerghis felt his ears going red at the sound of her voice.

She’s just my instructor, he reminded himself, tightening his grip on his practice sword and turning to face her. The sight in front of him pulled the air from his lungs. Byleth had discarded her usual cloak, instead sporting her sparring attire. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, exposing the smooth, unmarred skin of her neck and her cute little ears. Her outfit was a triple threat—the cutout in her shirt revealed ample cleavage, her toned midriff was bared, and those shorts… how sinfully short they were. To add to everything, her whole body seemed to glow gold, backlit by the afternoon sun. Dimitri wasn’t sure if he wanted her to kiss him or kick him in the face. Probably both.

“Dimitri?” Byleth repeated, the Prince’s doe-eyed expression earning him an eye-smile. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He coughed, covering his mouth with his free hand to hide his blush before steeling himself for the fight. “If I may ask, why are we in the courtyard instead of the training grounds, Professor?”

For a split second, Byleth’s gaze seemed focused on something behind him. Then, she shrugged. “It’s good to practice outside before it gets too cold. Plus, it’s likely we will be fighting in grassy terrain for our next mission. Best to get used to it.” Dimitri nodded, and they both sunk into their stances.

“Begin.”

~~~

As the Prince and the Professor began their duel, Sylvain, crouched behind a pillar, turned to the girl next to him and poked her shoulder. “Do you get it, now?”

“You’re saying…” Probably Lucy’s eyes followed the arc of Dimitri’s sword swing, then the Professor’s bold parry that sent him stumbling back a few steps. “His Highness is in love with the Professor?”

Sylvain nodded. “Yep. And you’re a beautiful girl, but earnest guys like him are suckers for unattainable goddesses like her. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger.”

Probably Lucy scrunched her brows. “You have a point, she’s gorgeous and powerful, and the way he was looking at her before the fight…” She bit her lip, carefully eyeing the Prince’s counterattack. “But you said it yourself, she’s unattainable. If he was in love, which I’m not sure of yet, his feelings couldn’t be returned.”

“Oh, Lucy. Dear, sweet Lucy.” Sylvain’s eyes were full of pity as the Professor sliced upward and sent Dimitri’s sword flying. “Why would that matter?”

His companion tore her eyes away from her crush to shoot him a withering glare. “Because, obviously, he would want a real relationshi—wait, who’s ‘Lucy’?”

~~~

“Pick up your sword, Dimitri!” Byleth commanded, a challenging smile gracing her lips. Their foreheads were shining with sweat, both were panting, but their eyes were still aflame. “Or have you given up?”

Even at age seventeen, Dimitri had the edge in raw strength. Byleth was a hardened mercenary—extremely fit—but if Dimitri gave it his all, the intense vibrations of their clashing weapons would have been enough to briefly stun her. It had happened in the past. But luckily for her arms, Byleth had the superior technique. There were two things she knew she could reliably exploit: his soft heart and his overswing.

She had successfully coaxed him out of holding back. When he charged her, it was with animalistic ferocity. She barely dodged his next few attacks, and couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she twirled and rolled out of his reach.

“Come on, Professor,” Dimitri goaded. “Are you even trying?”

She let her next move answer him, going on the offensive and aiming for his throat. He blocked and her sword slid harmlessly aside, setting the tone for the next flurry of attacks. Both attempted to best the other, but neither could get a direct hit. The gridlock was grueling. Until, that is, weakness number two appeared.

One of Byleth’s chief objectives when sparring with Dimitri was to increase his control. His immense strength was invaluable on the battlefield, but failing to stop his swing in time left just enough of an opening for her to appear in front of him, practically nose to nose, sword poised to remove his head. “You lose,” she said, her coy tone contrasting with her blank expression.

“Damn overswing,” Dimitri grumbled. But his face didn’t stay grumpy for long. He grinned and clasped Byleth’s hand, cheeks aglow with excitement and exertion. “Good job, Professor. You really keep me on my toes.”

“We’ll work on it,” Byleth promised, her hand unconsciously rising to tousle his hair.

Dimitri backed away in a fluster. “P-Professor, I’m all sweaty,” he complained.

“And you’ll be sweatier soon enough. Let’s go again.” Her student nodded eagerly.

~~~

“What, don’t want to stay for the rest of the show?” Sylvain asked, knowing the answer already.

Probably Lucy stopped, but didn’t turn around. “No. I get it. In the Prince’s eyes, there’s no one but her.”


	2. Closer, Farther, Then Closer, Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Byleth's feelings for each other grow stronger by the day, so why do they feel so far apart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a very long chapter with some smut at the end ;) Warning, there is a sex scene, so if you're not here for it, you can dip before the last bit, I won't hold it against you. I also mixed the cannon conversations around a bit surrounding the Goddess Tower to better fit this story. Also, I have decided to add one more chapter, after this one, which will be post-timeskip!

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was having a rough week.

First there was the PLO, the Probably Lucy Ordeal, which Sylvain had informed his housemates of in excruciating detail. Dimitri should really have seen that one coming. They all found it hilarious, he knew, but some of them (Ashe, Mercedes, Dedue) were more tactful than others (Felix, Annie, Sylvain, even Ingrid). The running joke then became finding the worst pickup lines ever, using them on each other, and then pretending to be charmed beyond rationality.

“Annie, do you have a bandage?” Mercedes whispered between songs at choir practice, loud enough so her classmates could hear, but not the instructor.

“Why? Are you hurt, Mercie?” Annette feigned shock.

“Yes, I’ve been terribly injured…” She fluttered her lashes, first at Dimitri, then at her best friend. “Falling for you.”

Annette pretended to faint, but her fake-swoon nearly sent her toppling off the risers, had Felix not been there to catch her. “Clumsy. Be careful,” he had scolded, but his eyes were smiling.

Sylvain put Ingrid up to it in the dining hall. She awkwardly sidled up to Dedue—the two had recently become much closer friends. “Dedue, I-I lost my armored bear stuffy,” she started. Dedue raised a concerned brow. “So I’ll need…” she glanced over her shoulder at Sylvain, barely containing himself. “I’llneedtosleepwithyouinstead.”

Ingrid was beet red, but Dedue did his best to play along, giving her the most romantic nod he could muster before he had to excuse himself, stifling his own embarrassment. Ashe had hurried after him.

These antics continued in such a fashion for the next few days until one morning, before lecture, Dimitri addressed them all, sternness etched into his features. “I know these jokes are all in good fun, everyone. But I think it’s gone far enough. What if poor Lucy hears of this? She’s not in our house, but you all have been far from subtle.”

“W-We’re sorry!” Annette apologized, unshed tears shining in her eyes. “It’s just… after what happened in Remire, we all wanted things to be… a little lighter around here.”

“That is true, but His Highness—er, Dimitri is right,” Ashe soothed, patting his classmate on the shoulder. “We meant it innocently, but it’s best to settle down.” There were nods of affirmation all around.

Dimitri’s expression softened. “So, these antics were an attempt to restore normalcy… Thank you all. I am honored to be surrounded with such good friends.”

“Aw, that’s our Dimitri,” Sylvain cooed. “ever considerate and sweet as sugar pie.”

“Isn’t he? The love of my life, that one.” Several jaws dropped as Byleth made her entrance, papers tucked under one arm, looking very proud of herself. The room went silent as she strode to the podium, shuffling her materials before she looked up and saw her students’ awed reactions. “What?” She blinked innocently. “I can’t play?”

That stirred the room into an uproar. This was the first time they’d seen her joke about anything. Dimitri, for one, didn’t see it. He was too busy burying his face in his arms and willing his heart to stop pounding, praying for his face to go back to its normal color.

Never in a million years had he expected the Professor to participate. It was… incredibly vexing. And when he lifted his head, her smile was a little guilty, she mouthed a silent apology before clearing her throat and beginning the lesson in earnest.

That should have been it, the teasing quieted down from then on. But, for whatever reason, the Professor’s playful expression, her jovial words, stayed at the back of Dimitri’s mind, only to resurface at the strangest times. At first he thought it was because what she said was improper, seeing as they were pupil and instructor, nothing more. But it wasn’t that simple, he knew it. “The love of my life.” She had said it so easily, as a mother calls her child the love of her life.

Did she see him as a child? A little brother to dote on and tease? Night after night Dimitri stared at the ceiling, cursing the few measly years that stood between himself and the woman he adored. At the edge of wakefulness, her words on the day of the Ordeal haunted him.

_“Okay, let’s call it a day,” Byleth stuck out her hand, helping him to his feet, the rays of the sunset gleaming in her eyes. “Your precision is improving. Keep working on it, and we can teach this technique to the kids in no time.”_

_Kids? Wait, they didn’t have any of those yet—oh. The kids from town. Dimitri sighed, doing his best to look unfazed. “Yes, absolutely.”_

_Byleth studied him, as if she could read his every thought. “Is the situation with that girl still bothering you?”_

_Dimitri’s mouth dropped open. “What? No, um. Wh-Who told you about that?”_

_“Sylvain.” She rolled her eyes. “He actually asked for my help today. I’m not entirely sure why he wanted us to spar, but I assume it was to ease your stress.”_

_Dimitri let that sink in. Sylvain had asked her… But he was trying to get that girl to lose interest, so what purpose could—Oh. Dimitri’s hand flew over his mouth, his next words came out unusually soft. “Y-Yes. That could certainly be the reason.”_

_“Anyway, I know you bear many responsibilities for one so young. If you need anything,” her gaze found his, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm, “a chat, advice, or even to hide away for a moment, please don’t hesitate to drop by my quarters.”_

The flippancy of that last phrase stirred something in him every time he recalled it, some petulant impulse his noble birth demanded he repress for most of his life. Some tendril of his pride hated how distant she felt, wanted her attention, selfishly, completely. This prideful part of himself strove to impress her, to prove he was a capable leader, a capable man.

But she didn’t get it. Maybe, he resolved, he would have to show her.

~~~

Byleth was beginning to worry about her favorite student.

Ever since the incident with that girl, Dimitri had been acting a bit off. He put as much effort into his work as usual, was as helpful to the others as before, even with the light teasing going on. But in those rare moments he was free, even between tasks, she would catch him staring into space, looking troubled. More than once, she had tapped him on the shoulder to ask what was wrong, and he had blushed, given her an awkward grin and a hasty excuse to leave.

Byleth didn’t know if she technically had a heart, but the ghost of one ached in her chest at those little rejections. She had been taking his smiles, his closeness, for granted as of late, but now he felt out of reach. Was it something she had done?

“Dimitri,” she grabbed his arm as he was hurrying out of class, and maybe her grip was too strong or her expression too blank, because the look on his face was pure panic.

“Y-Yes, Professor?” he squeaked.

Byleth retracted her hand and sighed. “I’m sorry for scaring you. But I wanted to ask if you would accompany me for tea? I have… missed you lately.”

Dimitri went from scared to utterly shocked in an instant. His cheeks flushed a fierce red, and with every second of silence between them, Byleth felt her will to live shriveling. Finally, cheeks still glowing, he gave her the sunniest smile. “Absolutely.”

Overcome with relief, some unconscious part of her that was afraid of letting him get away took his hand, nearly forgetting to pick up supplies before hurrying to the gazebo tables, dusted lightly with the first snow of the Ethereal Moon. The air was chilly, but Byleth didn’t mind as a comfortable silence fell over them, the pleasant aroma of chamomile filling their noses.

“Smells delicious,” Dimitri hummed, taking a sip. “And it’s so warm. As a child, I suffered frequent insomnia, but every time I drank a cup of chamomile before bed, I would fall right asleep. Just like magic. I think it was… my mother who first brewed it for me.” He took a sip, something distant and sorrowful clouding his demeanor.

“And now,” Byleth prodded, hesitant. “Is it still like magic?”

For a moment, Dimitri seemed to be considering. Then, he looked her seriously, right in the eyes. “When you make it, yes.”

Perhaps it was a reaction to the cold, or the steam rising from her teacup, but Byleth felt warmed from the inside out. As the atmosphere between them shifted, the feeling in her chest wasn’t quite soothing anymore. It was restless, urgent, somehow_ longing_. Unsure what to do with such emotions, and directed at her cherished student, no less, she opted to change the subject.

“The, um… The ball is coming up,” she started, plucking a strawberry tart from the tea tray and raising it to her lips. “are you excited?”

“My classmates certainly are,” If Dimitri was bothered by her evasion, it didn’t show. He chuckled. “I do share in their excitement to an extent. To be honest, I’m nervous about dancing, but I’m sure the comradery will be something to behold.”

“Ha!” Byleth covered her mouth. “’beholding comradery’, you sound like Seteth.” Trying and failing to suppress her giggles, she grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the rogue flecks of filling on her face. “Please, promise me that you will relax a bit at the ball. Have some fun for a change.”

“Fine, fine, I promise.” Dimitri muttered.

Byleth was so busy laughing that she hadn’t noticed him lean forward, hadn’t seen his hand rising until his fingertips brushed her cheek, moving aside a stray wisp of her dark hair. “You have to promise me something, too, Professor,” he said. Byleth’s breath caught at his touch. She froze, violet eyes never leaving the Prince’s as his forefinger drew across her lips, catching the last bit of jelly that remained there. Then he popped it into his mouth and whispered, with the tiniest of smirks, “Save a dance for me.”

Byleth was speechless. She realized that the only person she should be worried for in this moment was herself.

~~~

The evening of the ball was as magical as she had imagined. The students of Garreg Mach, all dolled up in their finery, made an elegant and jubilant picture as they floated across the dance floor. At first, Byleth watched fondly from a distance, hesitant to join in. She felt like an imposter dressed in the flowing silver gown her father had gifted her, the delicate necklace Hilda had crafted by hand, the violet heels Dorothea insisted were a perfect complement to her eyes, and the layer of makeup Mercedes and Annette had carefully applied. None of this was remotely in her wheelhouse. But after Claude swept her into the fray with a wink, her apprehension melted away, replaced by the joy of pleasant conversation, laughter and shared dances with her beloved students.

Through it all, however, Byleth’s mind—and her gaze—kept wandering back to the Prince of Faerghis. Ever since their teatime, the secret feelings she had harbored for her house leader since they met had only grown, along with her guilt. The two of them hadn’t crossed paths yet that night, and Byleth wasn’t sure if that was a frustrating or relieving state of affairs. Pondering it left her staring at the ground on more than on occasion.

“Hold your head high, Professor,” Lorenz, her current dance partner, reminded her well into the merriment, flashing a gallant smile. “Your footwork is not perfect, but your air of grace masks it well. Be proud of yourself.”

Byleth chuckled and did as he bid. “High praise. Thank you, Lorenz.”

With her new posture, Byleth scanned the sea of swaying bodies, only for her eyes to land on the root of her chaotic thoughts. Dimitri was dressed to the nines in a dapper blue suit, his golden bangs meticulously swept away from his face, a light smile playing on his lips as he spun Edelgard gracefully, sending her gown twirling like the petals of a crimson flower. They were captivating, their two figures contrasting so beautifully that it made Byleth’s chest ache. Two heirs of esteemed noble houses, close in age, thriving at the academy. Such a union would bring happiness to all of Fodlan. Perhaps… they were destined to be together.

Suddenly, Byleth didn’t feel like dancing anymore. The cheerful atmosphere felt oppressive, and the beautiful music was grating to her ears. As the song came to an end, Byleth politely refused her next would-be partner and hurried into the chilly evening, throwing her head back to stare at the sky as she gulped fresh air and tried to compose herself.

At times like these, when her mind felt cluttered, Byleth liked to pick a star and think of it as the mother she never knew. As a child, before she was old enough to understand death, Jeralt had told her that her mother had left Fodlan to become a star, always shining with love for them, even when it was too bright to see her. So, as Byleth made her way through the inky black of the night toward the Goddess Tower, she chose the brightest star she could find, winking at her from on high, and pretended her mother was reassuring her. Pictured her running long fingers through her hair and reminding her that everything would be alright. As always, it made her feel calmer.

“Professor.”

Byleth jolted at the sound of Dimitri’s voice, but wasn’t brave enough to tear her eyes away from the stars yet. “Dimitri,” she said softly. “why are you out here?”

She could hear him take his place next to her, feel his warmth in close proximity. “Well, I…” his tone was hesitant. “Truthfully, I saw you hurry away and came to make sure you were okay.”

Byleth turned toward his sheepish expression, her stomach lurching. “Th-Thank you, I’m alright.”

The two stood in awkward, pink-cheeked silence before Dimitri blurted, “Do you want to know how I learned to dance?” Byleth blinked. “I-I ask because you look a bit down, and the story is rather humorous,” Dimitri ran his hands through his hair, leaving his bangs disheveled.

Byleth reached up and combed them back into place, a cute laugh escaping her. “I see. Tell me, then.”

Dimitri proceeded to explain everything. How he and Edelgard were siblings by marriage, how they met as children, unaware of their identities. And, how she became his de-facto dance instructor. As his story unfolded, Byleth watched his vivid facial expressions and uncharacteristically wild gestures, feeling the slightest bit jealous that talking about Edelgard could bring such a cute side of him to the surface. When he got to the part about the dagger, his face clouded with a cocktail of embarrassment and nostalgia, and Byleth felt a familiar ache.

“It sounds like,” she prodded, quirking an eyebrow. “she was your first love.”

Dimitri laughed, looking pensive. “Maybe. But you know what they say about first loves. They don’t last.” Byleth didn’t know how to respond to that. So, she simply nodded. Dimitri, looking as if he couldn’t take much more teasing, changed the subject to the legend of the Goddess Tower, and what they would wish for if it were true.

“I suppose my wish… is for a world in which no one would be unjustly taken from us,” Dimitri mused. “Or, something along those lines.”

“That’s a great wish,” at the sight of his earnestness, she couldn’t stop herself from tousling his hair affectionately. “It’s very like you.”

“Thank you. Although,” Dimitri grabbed her hand as she was pulling it away, capturing her gaze with his own, “perhaps at a time like this, it would make more sense for me to wish that we’ll be together, what do you think?” Byleth’s heartbeat thrummed in her ears. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Before she could flounder, though, Dimitri let out a merry guffaw and dropped her hand. “What do you think, Professor? You and my classmates teased me this week, but thanks to you, I’ve improved in the art of joke-telling, have I not?”

Byleth’s stomach dropped. Was he serious? Her eyebrows scrunched, and she had to turn away to keep him from seeing her blatant disappointment. “It didn’t sound like a joke,” she deadpanned.

“I’m sorry…” Dimitri immediately seemed to shrink back. “I guess that was rather thoughtless of me. Especially as someone who might not even have a future to promise to someone. Please, think nothing of it.”

Once again they were lost to silence. Byleth played his words over in her head; they rang painfully true. As a future king, Dimitri was duty-bound to his people above all else. And when he left the monastery, there was no telling when they would cross paths again. As they stared up at the stars together, Byleth felt the chill of the night air against her shoulders more keenly than before. She shivered.

“Are you cold?” Dimitri asked.

“A little,” she answered.

“Maybe we should… go back inside soon.” Dimitri said, making no move to do so. “It’s rude of me to keep you all to myself.”

Byleth nodded, but she stayed put, too. It was as if the silver light of the night sky had rendered them immobile, giving them an excuse to savor the moment a bit more. It would have been wasteful to break such a spell. More than that, Byleth found herself not wanting to leave Dimitri’s side. She didn’t know what to do with this feeling—the scale, the intensity of it, both scared her. In all propriety, she should bury it; Byleth was no stranger to abstaining from her own desires in favor of rationality. But when she shivered again and he slid his arm around her shoulders, his warmth felt exactly right. Instinctively, she snuggled closer, her head resting against his chest. The action earned her a gasp, but Dimitri soon encircled her with his other arm, squeezing tightly.

“Professor,” He said thickly. His low voice and his quickening heartbeat were like thunder in her ears. Byleth began to tremble. To yearn from deep in her core. “Saying I want us to stay together… It wasn’t a joke. Even if it’s impossible, I… I really do wish it would come true.”

Those words, however stilted, were like music. Warm. He was so warm. Byleth turned in his arms to meet his gaze. “So do I,” she admitted. “I hope I can watch over the wonderful ruler you become, long into the future.”

“The ruler I become…” Dimitri seemed to bristle against her, biting his bottom lip in frustration. Had she said something wrong? His blue eyes burned with heat as he backed her into the shadows, against the cool stone of a nearby pillar. His fingertips glided against her neck before tilting her chin upward. “Professor,” he breathed. “I feel as if I’m going mad. I’m holding you right now, but you feel so far away. Do you… see me only as a student?”

Byleth’s mind was reeling. Such a direct question, such a compromising position, and yet, it was somewhere she wanted to be. Telling him would change everything, she knew. It was crossing a professional line. Even so, slowly, she shook her head. “I,” she took a deep breath. “I like you, Dimitri. Very much. I—”

Her words were swallowed by one urgent, searing kiss. Then, another. Two more. “How much?” He managed between kisses. “Show me.”

How adorably demanding. Byleth returned his eagerness with passion of her own, looping her arms around his neck and pulling their bodies flush against one another. The heat of his skin and the chill of the stone against her bare back sent shivers pulsing through her. Biting gently at his bottom lip, she pulled back, drawing a growl from his throat that set her aflame as she kissed him more fervently, their tongues working magic. As she moved to kiss his chiseled jawline, she let her hands wander, exploring the valleys and ridges of his arms, his chest, his muscular torso.

Inexperienced, but not to be outdone, Dimitri caressed and kissed every inch of bare skin he could find, tracing soft curves and hard muscle before stopping short of touching her heaving breasts. “Ah, Professor?” he questioned sheepishly as she sucked on his newly exposed neck.

“Yes?” She pulled away with a pop, looking bright-eyed and thoroughly kissed.

“May I?” He asked, glancing from her face to her cleavage. It took everything she had for Byleth not to laugh.

“Only if you call me by name, Dima,” she purred into his ear, grinding her hips enticingly against the bulge in his pants.

“Ah,” Dimitri groaned, pulling her waist closer. “B-Byleth…”

“Good boy,” she smiled against his shoulder, guiding his free hand to her chest, mewling in appreciation as he began to knead her right breast. “Make sure to get the nipple, too.” He obliged, brushing away the fabric keeping it contained and giving it a lick. When he felt her squirm against him, Dimitri took her nipple in his mouth and began to suck, grazing it with his teeth for good measure. Then, he switched to the other.

“Gods, Dima, that’s nice.” Byleth moaned, wetness and heat pooling at her core. She ground harder against clothed cock, the friction against her clit sending waves of pleasure crashing in her stomach. His hips rocked in response, and when he pulled away from her left nipple, Byleth captured his lips once more before praising him, breathless. “So good, Dimitri. Can you help me,” she guided his hand once more, this time under the thigh-high slit in her gown, “here?”

Dimitri nodded enthusiastically, brushing against her soaked smallclothes. “You’re so wet, Byleth,” he teased, earning a blush and a bite on the shoulder. Pulling the pesky garment off, Dimitri inserted a finger into her pussy, gasping at its tightness and heat. He began to pump slowly, eliciting a whine when he curled it inside her. Then, he added a second finger, a third. He was careful, patient, and persistent, his palm rubbing deliciously against her clit as he worked, his free hand tweaking her hardened nipples.

“Dimitri!” Byleth’s moan was strangled, her hips bucked against his hand as her pleasure overflowed to its glorious climax. “Ah,” she crooned, her legs turning to jelly upon blissful release.

Next, it was Dimitri’s turn.

When she regained her strength, Byleth kissed him passionately on the lips again, her fingers playing at the buttons of his dress pants. “May I?” She parroted cutely, cocking her head to the side.

“Are you sure it’s okay here?” Dimitri blushed, looking around for any passers-by.

“No one will come,” Byleth reassured him. “And we’ve done most everything else,” she shot him a wink.

“Then, please,” Dimitri breathed, kissing her forehead. Byleth made quick work of the buttons and his underwear, practically salivating as his cock sprang forth from its prison.

“Where would you like this?” Byleth asked coyly, stroking his length and grinning as it twitched.

“Here,” Dimitri stroked her pussy, still dripping with slick. “I have an idea.”

“By all means, go ahh—” Byleth yelped as Dimitri seized her waist, lifting her up and pressing her against the far wall. Instinctively, Byleth wrapped her legs around his waist. Sweeping the flowing fabric of her dress aside, Dimitri exposed her to the chilly air, sliding the head of his cock playfully along her entrance. “Wow, you tease. Ah—!”

He entered her in one go, but then thought better of his recklessness, giving his lover time to adjust to his sizeable length and girth. “Are you okay?” He asked, brow creased with worry.

“Yes,” Byleth nodded. “Just… go slow at first.”

Dimitri obliged, stifling a moan as he languidly pumped in, then out, a little deeper with each thrust. Byleth’s fingernails dug into his back, her head thrown back as he began to increase his pace. When she rocked her hips to meet his, Dimitri moaned her name, biting at the exposed skin of her collarbone. The smell of sin clouded the night air and wet smacking sounds bounced off the cavernous walls of the holy tower.

“Oh, Goddess!” Byleth screamed as he hit her exactly right. “Right there, Dimitri. Right there!”

Dimitri rammed in again and again, his thrusts becoming more frenzied. Byleth met him with equal fervor, breasts bouncing and thighs trembling as she came for the second time. The strength of her walls clenching around him was too much, and Dimitri barely managed to pull out of his professor before he spilled his seed onto the concrete below.

Happily exhausted, the two leaned against the wall cuddled for a bit before cleaning themselves up. Byleth re-tied Dimitri’s tie and combed her fingers through his wild hair, and he pulled Byleth into his lap, offering to help her fix her smudged makeup and ruined updo.

“I can’t make it as pretty as before,” he warned apologetically. “But I can do a simple braid, at least.”

“Thank you,” Byleth couldn’t stop smiling as she leaned back against his chest, closing her eyes happily as his fingers ran softly along her scalp. He took care to painlessly loosen every knot, and the final product was surprisingly neat, if a bit crooked.

“Beautiful, Professor,” he said when he was finished, planting a kiss at the end of the braid. “As always.”

Byleth grabbed his shoulders and stole a kiss from his lips. “Very handsome, Your Highness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Romantic nodding*
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Byleth and the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth returns to the monastery after five years of sleep, only to find that the man she loves wants nothing to do with her anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS for the first few months of the Blue Lions route post-timeskip. There is a moment of dubious (at best) consent in this chapter. It is short, but please take care while reading :)

Five years.

Five years she had been sleeping. Five years cradled in darkness, in nothingness, and to Byleth, it might as well have been one long blink. She hadn’t dreamed. Not a whisper had reached her unconscious mind until Sothis appeared before her, stern and motherly as she remembered, pushing her onward. Cycles were tough to break, she noted; the guardian of Fodlan was ever the one to pull her from the brink of death.

But when she woke up in that river, when her senses sharpened in the light, the sound, the feeling around her, her first thought was of him.

She was altogether too hurried to ask much of the man who found her. Only the year, only the location of the monastery. He had tried to caution her from returning, but Byleth hadn’t even registered those words. Her frenzied instincts carried her there before her rational mind could caution her otherwise.

Each step closer weighed heavy on her chest. She nearly stopped running when she first caught sight of the ruins of Garreg Mach. Her home, her sanctuary, its sacred beauty defaced. But she forced herself onward, unshed tears burning in the crisp air of the Ethereal Moon.

Though she had been warned of thieves, the monastery grounds were silent when she arrived. Still. Upon closer inspection, she noted several corpses, all dressed in Imperial uniforms. Some freshly dead, some long-since decayed. Byleth steeled herself against the stench and continued exploring. She wasn’t sure why, but something drew her to the highest silhouette in the skyline, the Goddess Tower. Rather than doing a thorough search as she first intended, she felt compelled to climb those steps, not sure of what she would find there, but hoping that whatever it was, it would bring her some peace.

Yet more bodies lay in her path. She stepped over them, desperation building as she climbed through the shadows, toward the light.

She could barely recognize him at first. Head bowed, his imposing frame swallowed by the fur of his cloak. He was the picture of death, hardened, haggard, coiled so tightly in on himself that Byleth wondered if he would even notice her. He did, a strained growl escaping his throat. When she was close enough, he looked up at her. In the light, Byleth could see the blood staining his cheeks, the despair clouding his one remaining eye. She fought hard against the compulsion to take him in her arms, to cry into his chest an apology that would never have been enough, to chant again and again that it would be okay. Instead, a single tear dripping from her chin, she extended a hand to him.

“I should have known,” Dimitri’s gaze fell—wistful, regretful, sad, “that someday, you would be haunting me as well.” Slowly, he stood, his rough, pleading voice betraying something deeper as he eyed his former teacher, his first love. “You. What must I do to be rid of you?” He took a step closer, reaching a hand for her cheek, then flinching away before he could make contact. “I will kill that woman, I swear it.” He bit his lip. “Do not look upon me with scorn in your eyes!”

“Dimitri.” Byleth choked back a sob. She held one of his icy hands gently between her own. “Everything will be okay.”

“You… It can’t be.” Dimitri’s astonished eye flicked from their clasped hands to the Professor’s face. “You’re alive?”

All at once, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Dimitri’s shock melted into a glower. He yanked his hand from her grasp and turned away, as if he couldn’t stand the sight before him. “If that is the case, you must be another imperial spy. Have you come to kill me?” He faced her again, a veritable storm of hurt, anger and bloodlust. “Answer the question.”

“Of course not.” Byleth bit her lip. There was so much more she wanted to add, chiefly, ‘I love you’. But all she could muster was a sad little smile.

There it was again, that pained sound. Somewhere between a growl and a whimper. He didn’t speak again. He simply stalked out, leaving Byleth to sink to her knees, exhausted and distraught.

~~~

Her moment of weakness was short-lived. Byleth muscled through her emotional turmoil, the shock of a transformed world, the burden of continuing war. Reunited with her old students and friends, spurred on by the memories of her father and Sothis, she kept moving.

Dimitri’s condition, however, was a wound that remained raw. He was intent on staying isolated, on realizing his own twisted self-image: that of a crazed beast. When he wasn’t ripping through enemies with no regard for his life on the battlefield, he was sequestered in the cathedral, bathed in jagged moonbeams filtering through broken stained glass.

Byleth wondered how much he was eating, how much he slept. Each night before she returned to her quarters, she made a pilgrimage to the cathedral, a cup of hot chamomile tea and a snack in hand. Each night she left her offering, close enough that he noticed, far enough away that he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. And each morning, she would come back to clean up the sticky floor and shards of shattered porcelain.

“Why… why do you do this to yourself, Byleth?” Sylvain had asked her once, eyeing the remnants of the latest teacup, wearing the same lost look she saw in the mirror most days.

For the hundredth time, Byleth braced herself against the waves of crushing hopelessness that were always lashing at her resolve. She gave a strained smile. “Thank you for worrying about me, Sylvain. But I can’t leave him alone like this.”

“I don’t—” Sylvain rubbed his temples in frustration, and Byleth was reminded that he and the others had probably been wrestling with such thoughts the whole time she was gone. “I honestly don’t know if even you can reach him, in his current state of mind. So why not keep your distance? Why invite him to hurt you worse?”

Byleth hummed. “Because as much as he lashes out at us, he’s treating himself even more horribly.”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” Sylvain let out a dry laugh. “You know, we’ve all been disillusioned and discouraged these past few years, and sometimes, looking at Dimitri is… too much.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “But we’ll support you. We miss him, too, and if anyone can work a miracle, it’s our professor.”

~~~

Roughly a month after their reunion, Byleth brought the usual tea along with a request. “We don’t have teacups to spare. Please stop breaking them.” That earned her a snarl, but the next morning, the teacup sat unscathed, untouched. The plate of snacks, however, was empty.

Another month came and went, and Byleth, feeling lonelier than ever, devastated about facing her former students in battle, and incomplete without the person she wished to confide in most, began to bring two cups of tea to the cathedral. She never prodded Dimitri, simply sat silently on the pews as she drank, her mind wandering, her gaze perpetually finding that corner where he sat. Unchanging, a solemn statue among the rubble. He had been overcome by his vengeance, she knew, on a self-imposed quest to do the bidding of the dead. He likely hated her presence in his place of solitude. But she also knew that the worst thing to be when you’re at the mercy of yourself is alone. So she waited. For any glimpse of the Dimitri she knew. Then, she could grab him tight and pull him back to the world of the living.

One night, after a particularly exhausting meeting, Byleth took up her position in the center pew, hand trembling as she raised her cup to her lips. She was tired. So tired. But goddess forbid she should show it. So many lives depended on her persistence and strength. So, she would have to be the epitome of both. But maybe… she would take a nap first. Her body felt too heavy, and her vision was swimming.

As her head began to loll sideways, she was startled by something cold pressed against her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, and Dimitri’s sour expression came into focus. His hand… it was metallic, somehow, cool against her hot skin. She thought he would pull away, but he seemed frozen. “Dimitri?” she said softly.

“You’re weak.” He deadpanned, his gloved fingers brushing down her jawline toward the nape of her neck. “I could so easily break you. Like a fragile little doll.”

“You won’t,” she told him, not a hint of doubt in her tone.

“Won’t I?” The world tilted as Dimitri took ahold of her shoulders and pushed her back against the seat of the pew, looming over her like a shadow. He leaned closer, his rasping voice and his breath against the shell of her ear making her even dizzier than the shift in position. “Do you not think me a craven, now?” He goaded. “A base and senseless animal?”

Byleth shook her head, keeping her expression as blank as she could in her hazy state. Rather than fearing his proximity, she simply felt pity—and an immense sense of loss.

“Tsk,” as if to punish her for her insolence, Dimitri seized her earlobe between his teeth and pulled. The whine it drew out of her seemed to frustrate him even more. “Stop this nonsense,” he hissed. “What do you want from me? Why do you come here every night?”

Byleth smiled, combing a hand through the unruly golden locks that brushed against her face as she had done many times back then. _Because I love you_. “Because I believe in you.” Her words were reverent, like a prayer.

Dimitri’s left eyebrow twitched. He grabbed her wrist. “No, Professor. You believe in who I _was_.” He hovered over her, their noses barely touching. “But I cannot turn back time. I cannot save my parents, or Glenn, or Dedue,” he winced. “That naïve brat who was so hopelessly in love with you, I can’t bring him back, either. I cannot ease your sorrow. It doesn’t matter how many cups of that infernal tea you bring me, I will never drink it again.”

“Dimitri.” Byleth’s luminous eyes did not falter. “I believe in you,” she repeated. “I believe in you. I—”

He smothered her words with a hard, biting kiss. Crawling up to join her on the pew, he waged war with his tongue, feasting on her exposed flesh as she writhed beneath him, clinging to his shoulders and biting her lip to keep from calling out. Her thoughts were in chaos, whipped into a frenzy by the stimulation, the shock, the fever. This was the man she loved, the man she had been trying to connect with for so long. And though their bodies were flush against one another, it was clear that the point of this whole display was to push her away.

But when his lips brushed her forehead, he pulled back as if he’d been stung. Avoiding her eyes, he removed one of his gauntlets, pressing his bared hand against her burning skin. “A fever,” he mumbled.

“I’m fine,” Byleth tried to sit up, pushing him back as she did so, but dizziness overcame her. Everything went black.

~~~

“Curse you,” Dimitri growled at no one in particular. The unconscious professor was cradled in his arms as he dashed around the monastery grounds, but he had no luck finding Manuela, Mercedes or Marianne. To be fair, he didn’t know where any of them slept—he hadn’t bothered to find out.

This was all her fault. So stubborn, so insistent on participating in every battle, running errands for anyone who asked, not to mention doing all the tactical planning. She was such a workaholic she gave Gilbert a run for his money. And yet, she appeared before him each evening, bearing food and drink and that undaunted expression, making it seem like going back to his old self could be as easy as taking a sip of warm tea. She was a fool.

Even so, when she collapsed, he couldn’t leave her shivering in the cathedral like he would have merely a month prior. Some part of him that had been dormant for many years wouldn’t allow that. When he couldn’t find anyone else to help, he took her back to her room and dumped her onto her bed. Glancing down at her face, flushed with fever and childlike in sleep, he felt that old part of himself stirring again. The part that had fantasized about marrying her someday, about protecting her and laughing with her and—

_Pitiful. Will you not avenge us? Is this girl an obstacle?_

“No, no.” Dimitri clutched his head, his temples throbbing as the voices plagued his thoughts. He saw their faces. Glenn, his parents, Dedue. They were soaked in blood. Screaming for help. And all they sought for atonement was the severed head of the Emperor.

Dimitri couldn’t stand to look at her anymore. He barreled through her door and stalked off toward the infirmary. Medicine. He could think of this as getting medicine for the chief tactician. The faster she got better, the faster he could kill Edelgard. Then, his thoughts would be his own again. He could sleep through the night without reliving their gruesome ends as he failed to save them over and over.

A fever. Seriously, how had the Professor been this reckless? What if she had fallen in battle? What then?

Dimitri muttered angrily to himself as he ransacked the medical supply room. What was he even supposed to do if someone had a fever? He’d never been trained to deal with such things, or if he had, the knowledge had been banished along with his sanity.

Washcloths. He remembered those. He took a fistful. Water. Herbs, hot tea to help her sweat the fever out. He piled everything remotely relevant into a spare medical bag and stormed out again, his strides urgent with… fury, probably.

When he came back, she was still sleeping, albeit fitfully. A sheen of sweat shone on her forehead, and her features were twisted, as if in pain. Dimitri dipped a washcloth into a bucket of cool water, then wrung it out a bit too hard. The sound of tearing fabric echoed in the silence. Dimitri cursed, but threw the ruined rag aside to try a second time.

When he laid the new cloth against her forehead, Byleth made a gentle moan of appreciation, her lashes fluttering, but her eyes stayed closed, and her brow was still knitted with discomfort. What could he do to help her now? Thinking back on his few experiences with illness as a child brought back the idea of changing her clothes. Something about getting rid of sweat and making it comfortable for her to sleep.

Acting immediately upon his thought, he had removed one of her shoes and was unbuckling the other when there was a knock at the door.

“Byleth?”

Dimitri recognized the voice as Sylvain’s. But when had those two gotten close enough to be on a first name basis? _Inconsequential_, the voices reminded him. _Get away from this woman, she is merely a distraction._

“I’m coming in,” Sylvain cracked the door and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of Dimitri at the foot of Byleth’s bed, holding the unconscious woman’s shoe and looking furious as all hell. Dumbstruck, all he could manage was a weak, “D-Dimitri?”

Dimitri immediately got to his feet and moved to shove Sylvain out of the doorway and clear his path to escape. “This idiot has a fever,” he snapped, avoiding eye contact. “Take care of it.”

“Wait.” Surprisingly, Dimitri stopped two steps from the open door at his former friend’s request. “Why are you still holding her shoe, Your Highness?”

The misplaced snark in his voice invoked a low growl as Dimitri threw the heeled boot like a missile, barely missing the side of Sylvain’s face. It hit the wall instead with a dull thud. “I’m going.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sylvain crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t mind that I’m going to finish what you started? Namely, changing her clothes, running a washcloth over her naked body, nursing her while she’s in a vulnerable state, feeding her medicine by mouth…”

Bastard. Sylvain spoke so crudely, so flippantly of perverse intentions. Dimitri had to fight the urge to throttle him where he stood. But instead of doing so, he simply stalked back inside the professor’s room, slamming the door behind him. “Mix the medicine,” he ordered. “And keep your eyes to yourself, or I will remove them.”

Sylvain hummed, but he didn’t make any smart comments for the time being. Dimitri returned to the task at hand, suppressing his feral urges to tear, rip and plunder in favor of gentler motions. unclasping Byleth’s shorts and wiggling them free of her ample hips before sliding them off, revealing the silk of her smallclothes peeking out from beneath her tights. The sight brought back flashes of their few passionate nights together; was enough to get him worked up, but he continued to strip her mechanically, revealing creamy thighs, toned stomach, slender shoulders. Byleth shivered in the new chill, and Dimitri hastily covered her with his cloak while he searched for her pajamas.

“Awfully chivalrous, for a beast.” Sylvain commented. “It’s heartening. I can’t lie, I had lost faith in you, Dimitri.”

“Is that why you left?” Dimitri spat.

Sylvain didn’t respond immediately, but Dimitri could hear him heave a deep sigh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you back then. I was supposed to protect you and Ingrid and Felix until the end, but when you were sentenced, everything felt so hopeless… I guess I was still a coward when it counted.”

Dimitri grunted, dressing the Professor carefully in her baggy sleepwear. “I didn’t ask for an excuses. Or apologies.”

“But I gave them.” Sylvain held up the finished herbal mixture. “Listen, I gave up before, but I’m here now. We all are. We’ve decided to follow you and Byleth, wherever that path may lead. We still believe in you.”

For a moment, Dimitri’s eyes went wide. Those two… what were the odds that they’d spout the same irritating words? With a perturbed grunt, Dimitri swiped the herbal drink from Sylvain’s hands. Propping the woman up on her bed as gently as he could muster, he took the vial of liquid into his mouth in one gulp. Ignoring Sylvain’s slack-jawed horror, Dimitri plugged Byleth’s nose, tilted her head back and kissed her for the second time that night. Her body immediately responded, swallowing as he skillfully transferred the liquid, fiercely fighting the urge to run his hand through her hair, to smooth her brow or wander the expanse of her soft skin. He fought especially hard against the part of himself that wondered whether she tasted at all like chamomile anymore.

“That was very unnecessary,” Sylvain clicked his tongue as Dimitri pulled away, licking away the spare drops of elixir dripping from the corners of his mouth with an animalistic glint in his eye. “Still, I feel like I should have to pay you for seeing that little show.”

Instead of dignifying him with a response, Dimitri tucked Byleth’s comforter around her shoulders, fastened his cape, then immediately made for the door. “Like I said, take care of this. Appropriately,” he added. He did not wait for the red-head’s answer before he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going for four chapters, everyone! Was gonna smash all post-timeskip content into a mega-chapter, but I think they will be very tonally dissimilar, so I'm breaking them up. Hope that's okay :)
> 
> I struggled a lot with Feral Dima, since I didn't want to discount his brutality in favor of pure fluff. But, I also wanted to put him in a situation that he doesn't usually get to participate in at this phase in his struggle, taking care of Byleth. Not sure if it feels in character, but here we are.
> 
> ~Thanks for reading!


	4. Blood and Ashes

The world was on fire.

With every breath, Byleth could taste it, the bitterness of scorched earth and smoke, the acrid sweetness of magical flames, the sickening stench of blood, sweat and burning flesh. Gronder Field seemed sapped of color, every place her eyes landed painted black and red. In the maelstrom, the Sword of the Creator was her torch, humming with golden energy as it felled foes and lit her path forward.

Edelgard’s assault had been swift, brutal. The kngdom forces had come up with a shaky plan to unite with Claude beforehand—before the news of the gutted scout. If they had had more time to consider their options, to match Gilbert’s wariness with Byleth’s trust in her former student and come to a consensus, maybe troop morale wouldn’t have been so shaky. Instead, the generals received frantic reports of the Imperial Army emerging from the fog at a blistering pace, putting everyone on edge. Their ultimate plan, though it turned Byleth’s stomach, was to attack anyone hostile—Alliance, Empire or otherwise.

Dimitri stayed mostly silent. He nodded his approval, but his demeanor reminded Byleth of when he first started attending war councils again. Distant, ambivalent. Byleth longed to talk with him alone. He had improved so much, especially with Dedue’s return. She held out hope that he was on an upswing.

That changed once the soldiers began their march and Dimitri caught sight of Edelgard, merely a crimson smudge in the distance. Byleth’s faith in their progress, her hope that he would come to his senses, was dashed when she saw the look on his face. Rage, bloodlust, sheer murderous intent.

“Kill every last one of them!” came his strangled roar.

Before she or Rodrigue could stop him, Dimitri sallied forth on his own, leaving the tactician to scrap her earlier objectives in favor of backing his frenzied assault. The young king carved a bloody scythe through masses of foot soldiers, headed straight for the central hill whose capture had won them the Battle of the Eagle and Lion all those years ago. His actions screamed that if he had his way, there would be no clever schemes or shrewd tactics. Just a straightforward duel to the death.

Edelgard saw things differently.

As soon as the bulk of the Kingdom Army reached the central hill, the Empire rained fire upon them. Their front-line contingents, rife with wyverns and pegasi, took to the sky as the hillside went up in flames, deftly surrounding and immobilizing their prey. Anyone on foot or horseback, regardless of affiliation, became an unlucky target. Cries of anguish and confusion rose in a horrible crescendo, and Byleth’s knuckles turned white as she gripped her shield, mind racing to formulate an escape from this disaster. What kind of ruler sacrificed her friends and foes in equal measure? Her stomach was sick.

“Snipers! Take out as many fliers as you can, keep to the middle. We need to make an opening for the mounted units to break through!” Even as she relayed her orders, kept as calm possible, there was only so much Byleth could predict in such turmoil. Telling friend from foe, Alliance member from Imperial soldier was next to impossible. If the Emperor sought chaos, she had succeeded.

“Dedue!” Byleth called to the indominable man of Duscur over the sounds of clashing metal, screaming wyverns and pounding footfalls. “Follow Dimitri down the hill. We’ll be taking care of these pegasi.”

Dedue, looking grateful for explicit permission to support his liege, nodded, calling for his battalion. Their towering shields surged forward as one, muscling through enemy lines even as their own armor scalded them.

Squirming in the sweltering heat, kept sane only by the periodic flow of healing magic, the army escaped the hill, and Byleth thanked the goddess for her talented generals, their quick thinking and hard work. Ahead, she could just barely spot Dimitri’s back in the distance. He was stained with blood, but he fought as vigorously as ever—Byleth knew she had to reach him.

But she was not fortunate enough to have a clear path.

“Professor,” The tactician snapped to attention at the familiar voice of Edelgard’s right hand, her insides creeping with dread. “Nice of you to join us.” Hubert flashed a sinister smile, his palms pulsing with dark energy.

“Was it your idea to attack the hill indiscriminately, or your Emperor’s?” Byleth’s voice came out a low growl as she advanced toward him. For once, she couldn’t conceal her hatred. “Were your troops aware that they were merely sacrificial pawns?”

Hubert rolled his eyes. “I hadn’t thought you so sentimental, Professor.” He released a cloud of miasma, the glob of magic singeing her coattails as she rolled to avoid it. “No amount of lives spent realizing Lady Edelgard’s dream could be considered a waste. It seems you don’t understand that.”

“What is a nation without its people?” Byleth hissed, rearing back, her slice to his arm narrowly missing its mark. “Without loyalty?”

“It is for loyalty they lay down their lives!” Hubert thundered, knocking her back with a powerful blast. “Your paltry forces will not prevail. Since you dare to interfere, I’ll just have to get rid of you.”

Byleth grit her teeth, the effects of the magic and her exhaustion slowing her attempts to defend herself. Another powerful spell to the shoulder and she was on the ground, writhing in pain. Hubert’s palms crackled with energy as he bore down on her for the finishing blow. “This is the end for you, dear Professor.” He smirked.

“You’re pretty arrogant to get within striking range of a Hero’s Relic!”

Hubert’s eyes went wide as an arrow sprouted from his back. He winced, temporarily stunned, a perfect target for the horse that came barreling at him. He tried to step back, but the Lance of Ruin was too fast. The wound on his side pooled with fresh blood and he sank to his knees.

“Sylvain,” Byleth managed a grateful smile, climbing to her feet, her sword itching to retaliate.

“Glad I made it in time,” the cavalier huffed.

Hubert immediately realized his decreased odds of success. “If I keep fighting, I’ll endanger my life,” he bit out, his eyes flickering with a mix of pain and malice. “I must retreat.”

Before Byleth or Sylvain could stop the mage’s escape, he teleported away. “Damn,” Sylvain cursed. “Slippery bastard.” He turned to his professor, expression morphing from enraged to concerned. “You okay?”

Byleth barely heard him. Her eyes were trained on the sky, on the retreating wyvern sporting the telltale golden armor of the Alliance. “That arrow,” she muttered. “is Claude really our enemy?”

“That was him?” Sylvain’s eyebrows shot up. “Never mind that. We need to get you to Mercie. Hop on.”

Byleth shook her head, eyes combing the melee for one person in particular. “I need to find—"

“Dimitri. I get it.” Sylvain held out his hand. “We’ll find him. But it’ll be faster on horseback. Plus, you’re no good to him dead, Byleth.”

Byleth conceded, mounting quickly as her friend gestured to the saddle-bag. “Elixir, take one.”

From then, the two raced as fast as they could, legendary lance and arcing sword meeting endless waves of opponents. By the time they reached Edelgard’s fortress, her forces had already begun to withdraw and the Emperor was nowhere in sight. Dimitri was livid, the only thing holding him back from chasing her to his death was Rodrigue’s firm grip.

“I’ll go after her!” He roared. “Retreat if you want, but I will not allow her to leave this cursed place alive!”

Hearing him rave felt like being struck by lightning. Byleth leapt from Sylvain’s horse to intercept, but before she could get close, peals of hysterical laughter filled the air. In slow motion, a blade flashed silver. “Your Highness!”

There was an agonizing scream.

“RODRIGUE!”

~~

Everything was wrong. 

The Battle of Gronder had been the picture of violent calamity, chaotic, bloody, scorched by flames. Yet, to Dimitri, its silent aftermath felt far more hellish. Fighting had been a blur, he had run purely on instinct, adrenaline and a thirst for vengeance. Now that his mind was his own again, quieter than it had been in years, torn between the numbness of grief and stirring self-doubt, Dimitri felt lost.

What could he do now? Despite his efforts, that woman and her snake of a general had escaped with their lives. They’d slipped away, and thanks to his reckless gambit, the kingdom forces, though they’d eked out a victory, had been brought to the edge of disaster.

And Rodrigue… Rodrigue had paid the ultimate price.

Dimitri couldn’t bear the piteous looks. Each well-meaning condolence chilled him to his core. His feet carried him to the edge of camp, toward the rays of the setting sun that were snuffed out by approaching storm-clouds. Toward Enbarr.

Rodrigue’s last sentiments were still ringing in his ears._ My boy…Your life is your own. It belongs to no other, living or dead. Live for what you believe in._

How could he do such a thing? The frenzied calls of the dead, his own desires… he had thought them the same, he had thought his obligations to the fallen should supersede anything else. But with those words, everything was thrown into confusion. Rodrigue, now among the ghosts of his loved ones, had spared him any notions of regret or revenge on his behalf. So who should he be now, if not a vessel for that vengeance? Did he still have a soul or a future? A right to want anything for himself?

“Where are you going?”

Dimitri flinched at the sound of her voice. The one other who had caused him to waver. Two desires were at war within him, then—a desire to flee, and a desire to fall at her feet. He felt an immediate closeness, a magnetic hold that he could never quite break, but he didn’t dare look at her face. What kind of expression did she wear? Seeing it might have ruined him for good. He let out a breath. “It doesn’t concern you.”

Overhead, thunder rumbled. Dimitri counted one, two, three footsteps closer. Now he could see the tips of her boots from the corner of his eye. Hear her cloak fluttering in the wind. Her tone was soft, but sure. “It does.”

“Get out of my way. Now.” Dimitri clenched his fists. He tried to project anger, but his voice didn’t sound angry. He sounded like a wounded lamb.

Byleth didn’t move. He could feel her gaze on him. “You’re going to Enbarr, aren’t you?” How could she see right through him? Her next words cut to the heart of everything. “Do you really think that will appease the dead?”

“Silence!” He blurted, finally raising his lone eye to meet hers. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Byleth’s brow twitched, like she knew he was really questioning his own certainty. After all that had happened, how could he know his crusade was just? How could he have faith in anything? All of his struggling, what was it for?

“Death is the end,” he reminded himself, the first words of the manifesto he’d clung to in the wake of constant loss bitter on his tongue. “No matter how much lingering regret a person has, after death, they are powerless. They cannot even wish for revenge, much less seek it out. Hatred. Regret. Those burdens fall on the shoulders of those who are left behind. And so, I must continue down this path. I told you as much. It is far too late to stop.”

“You’re wrong.” Byleth’s warm hand fell on his shoulder, a contrast to the first cold drops of rain that slid down the bridge of his nose. She was making that face again. The one that rendered him soft and malleable as clay. Dimitri’s eyelids burned. He brushed her aside and forced his gaze to the arc of lightning flashing on the distant horizon.

“Do not waste your breath with some nonsense about how I should move on with my life for their sake.” He growled, anger belying his rising helplessness. “That is merely the logic of the living. It’s meaningless.”

Ever so slightly, Dimitri could hear Byleth sigh over the now-drizzle. He didn’t wait for her to protest again, as so many of his allies and former friends had done over the past years. He let the words flow like those errant raindrops leaving tracks on his cheeks. “Those who died with lingering regret, they will not loose their hold on me so easily. But you seem to have all the answers…. So tell me, Professor. Please, tell me. How do I silence their desperate pleas? How do I… How do I save them?” His voice broke. Thunder swallowed his muffled sob. “Ever since that day nine years ago… I have lived only to avenge the fallen. Even my time at the Officer’s Academy was all so that I could secure my revenge and clear away the regret of the dead. It was the only thing that kept me alive. My only reason to keep moving forward.”

Dimitri had barely finished his sentence when he felt her arms around him. She didn’t say anything at first. She simply held him close. Squeezed him as tightly as she could. The comforting gesture dissolved every pretense of strength or foolish pride. He clung to her—shivering, weeping for Rodrigue, for his lost childhood, for the monster he had become. Byleth stroked his hair and held him fast, letting his tears wet her shoulders as the sky mourned with them. When she did speak, her voice was thick, her words falling somewhere between a wish and a plea. “You must forgive yourself.”

Dimitri pulled back a bit, cheeks soaked with tears and rain. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself a sliver of hope. “Then… Who—or what—should I live for?”

Byleth raised a tentative hand to his face, softly wiping it dry with her sleeve. “For nine years, you’ve been living as if your survival that day was a curse. But know that to me, to Rodrigue, to your people and everyone who loves you, the fact that you’re alive right now is a gift, Dimitri.” She let out a small smile. “The only way to make the most of that gift is to live for what you believe in.”

“What I believe in… Rodrigue said the same thing.” Dimitri mused. “But is it possible? I am a murderous monster. My hands are stained red. Could one such as I really hope for such a life? As the sole survivor of that day, do I… Do I have the right to live for myself?”

In answer, Byleth slowly, deliberately took his hand, lacing her fingers with his and letting heat seep back into his numb extremities. Without letting go, she led him out of the rain, toward the fort, toward their allies, toward a better tomorrow.

“Your hands are so warm,” Dimitri murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting as he gazed at her in profile. His savior. His… Beloved. “Have they always been?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all :)
> 
> Thank you for being patient with me, I had finals, a massive case of writer's block while trying to work with the in-game dialogue, and then I kept coming up with more scenes I wanted to include. Weeks later, the chapter was still unfinished and over 6k words, so I'm splitting it again, ha! Since it's almost done, I will try to have it out by Christmas. In contrast to this angst, it is VERY fluffy.
> 
> Stay warm and safe this holiday season, and, as always, thank you for reading!


	5. Chamomile Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri is back from the brink of despair. What does this mean for him and Byleth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, dear readers!
> 
> This chapter was a long time coming. I hope you like it :)

For the first time in a long while, things were looking up for the Holy Kingdom of Faerghis.

Their heir was back, the capital was safe, and the Empire had been successfully thwarted at Deirdru. To top it all off, the (former) leader of the Alliance, in his nonchalant manner, assured that along with a peaceful union of the two territories, the Kingdom Army would have a replenished supply of troops, medicine and weapons for their eventual assault on Enbarr.

Byleth was happy about all of those things, but she was happiest about the change in Dimitri.

Since their heartfelt talk at Gronder, it was clear the young king was making an effort to turn himself around. He had apologized to his comrades, offered to train, plan and do chores around the monastery, and he was getting both a balanced diet and far more sleep. Byleth knew it was still very hard for him, still awkward and painful to confront the state of things, to reconcile his desire to be redeemed with his past actions. So she stayed by his side, offering encouraging words and mid-afternoon snacks. “Full belly, full heart,” she would chime.

The others, for their part, were thrilled to have their honorable friend back. Dimitri looked surprised at every small victory, every little gesture of acceptance and healing, but his family in the Blue Lions strove to ease the tension in their own ways. It was not uncommon for Byleth to happen upon Dimitri hunched over a flowerbed with Ashe and Marianne, who patiently explained the finer points of gardening, holed up in the Library with Ingrid and Annette, poring over tactics, in the kitchen chopping vegetables with Dedue and Mercedes, whose energy was always calming. Even Felix, though he had scoffed at Dimitri’s apology, told Sylvain to invite the Boar to spar with them every morning.

The only thing he didn’t do with them was take meals. Byleth had broached the subject a few times, but she could tell he felt uncomfortable eating with everyone after so long apart. So she let him take it slow.

Claude von Riegan did no such thing.

“Wait, you’re not coming to the banquet tonight?” his mouth dropped open. “But what if you never see me again? Then, you’ll live the rest of your days regretting that you never talked to me one last time at this glorious feast—”

“Hey, knock it off,” Byleth warned, scrunching her nose at his theatrics. “Don’t push Dimitri if he’s not comfortable—"

“No, no, it’s fine.” Dimitri held up his hands with a hesitant smile. “You’ve made an excellent point, Claude. I’ll go. But I do have some business, so I’ll see you two later.”

“Wonderful! Later,” Claude smirked, waving as Dimitri disappeared down the corridor. As soon as he was out of sight, Claude turned his attention to Byleth. “So, Teach, when’s the wedding?”

Byleth blushed in spite of herself, anxiously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Come on,” Claude rolled his eyes. “The way you two look at each other is a dead giveaway. Do you know the reason I trusted that the Kingdom forces would support us at Deirdru?” Byleth shook her head, and Claude placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. “It was because I knew you could pull him back to the world. You’re the only one who could. The way I see it, you two were destined for one another.”

Byleth turned away. “That’s… You make it sound so simple.” She folded her hands, her gaze finding the Goddess Tower on the horizon, following the wyverns circling it on patrol. She found herself speaking her thoughts aloud, even if she hadn’t intended to. “I’m not really sure if what Dimitri feels for me is the same kind of love I have for him. We have been together all this time, but there are many things he works hard to overcome. Wouldn’t it be selfish of me to put my own feelings over his personal growth?”

Claude frowned, scratching his beard in thought. “You know, Teach, I can see where you’re coming from. Dimitri has a long road ahead of him, we all do. I think if he isn’t showing his feelings, it’s out of fear that he will hurt you, or become more of a burden. But both you and His Majesty are getting one thing wrong with all of this. Mutual love is never a burden. It is a blessing. It makes everything weighing you down so much lighter.”

“’Mutual’ love, yes, but—”

“You don’t think that man loves you?” Claude crossed his arms and let out an exasperated sigh. “How could he not? He’s been infatuated since we were seventeen, and I can promise his love has only gotten stronger since then. You know what?” Claude clapped his hands together, an epiphany evident in his eyes. “I’ll show you what I mean at the banquet. Think of it as a goodbye present.”

Byleth had a bad feeling about this, but she was helpless to stop it.

~~

The banquet was, as Claude so aptly put it, ‘glorious’.

True to the spirit of Almyran feasts, there was a seemingly endless supply of delicious food, fine alcohol and raucous conversation. Soldiers from the Kingdom, the former Alliance, the Knights of Seiros and the monastery staff all piled into the Dining Hall, where the tables had been rearranged into the shape of a huge horseshoe.

Byleth ended up sandwiched between Claude and Hilda, with Dimitri, Dedue and Sylvain directly across the table. Claude and Hilda had both given her a discreet thumbs-up to show that the plan was in motion, and Byleth dreaded what that might mean. She had a glass of ale in hand before long, hoping that would make this whole experience bearable.

Honestly, it was more than bearable. It was a good time. Claude and Hilda both fawned over their former teacher, feeding her from their plates, offering drinks and silly anecdotes from Claude’s stint as Duke Riegan, Big-Shot Leader. Byleth was smiling and laughing along in no time, exchanging pleasantries with Leonie and Lorenz, cooing over Marianne and Ignatz’s adorable reunion, marveling at Lysithea and Raphael’s massive dessert and meat intake, respectively.

She was having so much fun that she didn’t notice Dimitri’s sour face when Claude whispered in her ear. His left eyebrow twitching when Hilda draped herself on Byleth’s lap, flushed with booze. She didn’t catch those sharp intakes of breath at Sylvain’s flirting, furrowed brows at the beaming smile she shared with the Gatekeeper.

By the time she remembered that there was a ‘plan’ at all, Dimitri had slipped away. Byleth felt instantly sober. How could she let this happen? Did he feel excluded? Stifled? Claude noticed the distress on her face and gave her a small nod. “Go get him.”

~~

“It’s dangerous to train in the dark. What are you doing in here?”

Dimitri’s blade stilled at the sound of her voice. This was bad. He had escaped to the training grounds as a distraction, to sweat until he was too tired to be consumed with his thoughts of her. What was he supposed to do now? He was over the line, feeling so possessive. She was no longer—rather, she had never truly been ‘his’.

Realizing that he hadn’t answered her question, his rush to think of anything to say produced a tone gruffer than he would have liked. “I could ask the same of you, Professor. Why leave such lively festivities?”

“To find you, of course.” Contrary to his irritation, Byleth’s tone was relaxed. Nonchalant, even.

Dimitri turned to face her, dumbfounded. She was more beautiful than he could comprehend, the lamp she held brightening the inky shadows around her, the flecks of gold light it cast shimmering in her sea-green eyes. Her cheeks and chest were a bit rosy from drink, her coat was a bit lopsided, and—the most arresting aspect of all—she was smiling. Not one of her usual micro-smiles (though Dimitri loved those). This smile was wide, radiant, like she couldn’t hold it back if she tried. This was the smile that had made him so uneasy at the feast when it had been directed at Claude, Sylvain, the Gatekeeper. The smile that drove him crazy with jealousy and guilt and selfish desire.

Only now, it was just for him.

“Care for a quick match?” Byleth asked. Shit, he had forgotten to answer again. For her part, Byleth was already hanging the lamp out of harm’s way and tossing her coat to the side.

“P-Professor, it isn’t safe to fight while intoxicated.” Dimitri tried to keep his eyes away from her bared shoulders. “And at this time of night, you’ll catch cold.”

“Psh. You’re no fun,” Byleth grabbed a practice sword and stuck out her tongue like a petulant child. “I’m barely tipsy. And I’m better at this than you, Mr. Overswing.”

That last comment pulled a chuckle and a challenging smile from Dimitri’s lips. “We haven’t sparred in years, and you’re still so confident? Was the river at the canyon-bottom an adept master of swords?”

As soon as it came out of his mouth, Dimitri was worried his joke was over the line, but his relief was instant when Byleth laughed out loud, a melodious sound he had only heard a handful of times. “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Both fighters took their stances, eyeing one another, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Byleth struck first, fast and powerful, and Dimitri barely sidestepped in time. He remembered that there was no way she’d be rusty—he had just been too focused on his own ambitions during battle to remember she was the heart of the army’s success. His counterattack glanced off her blade and she came charging at him again. Their attacks flowed like waves, pushing, pulling, both fighters evenly matched and searching for their opponent’s tiniest mistakes.

Whether it was the alcohol or simple human error, it was Byleth who swung a bit wide this time. Her blunder was all Dimitri needed to seize the opening and get close, knocking her sword away and grabbing her wrist with his free hand. The surprise was evident on the Professor’s face as she stared back at him, speechless.

“That was a good match,” Dimitri breathed, his chest still heaving. He let his sword fall but held her wrist fast. “But I have you, Miss Overswing.”

Byleth panted, pupils blown, lips parted, so enticing. Somehow it felt like now or never. “I resent—" Dimitri made his choice, kissing away the end of her sentence.

It was already so hot, as if the Eternal Flames were burning within them, but somehow, the temperature continued to climb with each meeting of their lips. Dimitri gave himself over to his baser urge to kiss her senseless, licking, biting, one hand buried in her hair, the other holding her close enough that she would never slip away again. Byleth had seemed stunned at first, but before long, her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, holding on for dear life to keep up with his blistering pace.

“Ah, Dimitri,” she moaned into his mouth.

Her voice seemed to break Dimitri from his trance. Realizing how rash, how forceful he had been, he pulled away, worried. Sure enough, there were tears in Byleth’s eyes, and upon seeing them Dimitri immediately stepped back, trying to ignore the overwhelming loss he felt at the absence of her touch. “I-I’m sorry. To treat you this way, to overstep my bounds after everything I’ve done is unfor—”

“No!” Byleth blurted, clinging to his chest in a sudden panic. “I’m sorry for crying. I’m just… so happy.” She raised her head to look at him directly, one hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. “”I love you, Dimitri. I never stopped loving you.”

“You… You’re sure?” Dimitri’s breath caught, his vision blurring with tears. “Someone like me?”

Byleth smiled through her own tears. “Yes. Only you. Do you love me?”

In answer, Dimitri hugged her so tightly she let out a squeal. “I love you more than anything. My goddess, my dear Byleth. My Beloved.”

Their emotions soon became too powerful for words to express, and the task fell to their hands, their lips, their bodies. They could barely wait to reach Byleth’s quarters before shedding their clothes along with their inhibitions. Starved for one another, they indulged in a new feast of bare skin and wet arousal, finding a rhythm so achingly delicious that it carried them to ecstasy well into the glow of morning.

~~

For once, the new Archbishop of the Church of Seiros didn’t have anywhere to be but in bed with her fiancé.

In the weeks since Edelgard’s defeat, there had not been much time to relax. Reconstruction efforts across Fodlan, especially in Adrestia, the complete overhaul of the Church of Seiros’ policies and the full reconstruction of Garreg Mach had kept the King and the Archbishop exhausted and apart, but not today.

Today, in her haven under the plush blankets, snuggling her human bear stuffy, she was safe from stress, pesky duties and the chill of the Ethereal Moon. It was nearly noon and Dimitri was still asleep, one arm draped loosely over her stomach, the other jammed under his pillow. The couple had discovered that The King’s nightmares were far less frequent when he slept at Byleth’s side, and they made a point to do so as often as their schedules would allow.

Byleth had never been much of a cuddler, but she loved cuddling with Dimitri. For one thing, they fit together perfectly. She never grew tired of his closeness, of listening to his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. She would have thought before they met that it might be less comforting to nuzzle against such a hulking amount of chiseled muscle, but she was wrong. Though he wasn’t exactly fluffy, he was her anchor. Warm, solid, dependable. And his smell, always falling somewhere between soap and the forest on a clear day, put her instantly at ease.

Byleth lovingly threaded her fingers with his, admiring the look of her father’s ring shining against his pale skin. Dimitri rarely took it off, polishing it regularly and treating it with the utmost care, and Byleth couldn’t help but feel giddy every time she beheld it. She said a grateful little prayer to Jeralt, to the star where he and her mother dwelled, to remind him that she was happy. She had found someone just right, someone to share her life with as long as they both drew breath. She brushed a soft kiss against their entwined hands.

“Mn,” Dimitri stirred at the touch of her lips, drawing her closer and encircling her with his pillow-arm to hold her tight against his bare chest. “Hang on. Still sleeping, Beloved.”

“Can’t do, Dima,” she giggled, featherlight kisses brushing each fingertip. “Time to get up.”

Dimitri groaned again, the noise turning into a yawn halfway through. He nuzzled his chin onto her shoulder, voice thick with sleep in her ear. “Do you have a more convincing argument?”

_Always so cheeky in the morning._ Byleth turned so they were face-to-face, stifling a laugh at the affectionate mischief glittering in King’s azure eye. “I have a spell that may do the trick.” She combed her fingers through his bedhead and began to kiss a path up the column of his neck, his stubbly jawline. She teasingly kissed both cheeks, the tip of his nose, the delicate scar over his right eye. Dimitri leaned into her touch, eyes closed, sighing contentedly. His lips were parted slightly, awaiting a visit from her wandering mouth, but Byleth just hovered over them, propped up on her elbow, wearing a little smirk as she whispered, “That’s it. Did it work?”

Dimitri growled, pushing her shoulders onto the mattress and looming over her, biceps flexed as he pondered her punishment. Byleth could feel his gaze fall to her sleepwear, one of his old shirts with a stretched-out neckline, too-long sleeves and threadbare material that left little of her sumptuous curves to the imagination. Her nipples began to peak against the soft fabric at his scrutiny, heat pooling at her core as one of his hands slid down her side to take ahold of its hem.

“Girls who tease,” Dimitri leaned in, breath fanning her ear. “Don’t get to borrow my clothes.”

In one smooth motion, he whisked her the long shirt up to her shoulders, prompting a giggle from Byleth as she raised her arms to let him finish the job. The chilly air was a shock to her exposed flesh, all that protected her modesty now was a pair of her favorite royal blue panties. Dimitri seemed to like her underwear, too, if his prominent bulge was any indication. The Archbishop shivered, both from the cold and the intensity of her lover’s expression.

“How considerate, Dima. We match,” Byleth purred, enjoying how his breath hitched as she drew her finger down the planes of his chest and abs, stopping just short of his smallclothes. Ever so lightly, she stroked his semi-hard cock.

“More teasing?” Diimitri grabbed her offending hand and pinned it above her head. “This does not bode well for you, my Beloved.”

Byleth had to disagree, she stifled a moan, legs spreading wide as he kissed fire across her collarbone, busy hands kneading her breasts and tweaking her pert nipples. When he came close to her lips, she expectantly closed her eyes, but he only laughed as he withdrew. “Girls who tease also don’t get kisses there,” he said into her stomach.

Byleth would have pouted, but any attempts to do so were halted by his tongue and teeth. They grazed her hipbones, nipping, licking, teasing the line where lace met skin. Eventually, they reached her clothed pussy, wet with arousal.

“Shall I perform a spell of my own?” Dimitri quipped, pulling the fabric aside and dragging a finger across her entrance. Byleth’s hips rocked against his hand in answer, accepting the digit into her folds as he pumped in and out, agonizingly slow.

“Please, Dima,” she mewled, frustrated when he refused to add more fingers.

Instead, Dimitri removed the solitary, glistening pointer and met her pleading eyes as he sucked it clean. “Mm,” he purred. “I suppose the spell isn’t complete. Shall I… use my tongue this time?” Byleth made a noise somewhere between a whine and growl, pulling a chuckle from her lover as he whisked her underwear off and gave her pussy a long lick. His tongue continued to dart and swirl, and when he closed his lips around her clit, Byleth writhed, toes curling and fingers pulling at his hair. The pain and pleasure spurred Dimitri on in his quest to push her over the edge, a quest which finally succeeded when he grazed his fingernails against her sensitive inner thighs and sucked her clit simultaneously. Everything seemed to shatter.

As she rode out her high, Dimitri plopped next to his beloved on the mattress, glancing smugly at her from the side. “How was that for a spell?”

Byleth couldn’t contain her grin. “I’ll give it a B,” she joked, rendering his face into an instant pout. “It was lacking in one aspect,” she explained, finding the strength in her pleasure-addled muscles to drape herself over his lap. Slowly at first, she rocked her hips over his hardness, feeling that familiar twinge of longing as the head of his clothed cock strained against his underwear to brush her clit. Byleth could tell that Dimitri was struggling to contain himself, and for once, she resisted the urge to tease, helping him shrug off his bottoms and pumping his cock with smooth, gliding strokes, humming as his hips bucked to meet her hands. As she sheathed herself, she finally fulfilled their shared desire and kissed him deeply on the lips, delighting at his frenzied thrusts, their strangled moans, the tingling electricity of raw passion.

“Ah, Dima!” she threw her head back as he hit the perfect spot. Dimitri redoubled his efforts, ramming her again and again to a chorus of moans and the wet smacking of flesh.

This time they reached their climax together, breathless, slick with sweat, totally spent. “Goddess, that was amazing.” Byleth managed, head resting against Dimitri’s chest, still basking in the afterglow.

“We are pretty good,” Dimitri affirmed, combing through her damp bangs with gentle fingers.

After their indulgent morning, they shared a warm bath, reading aloud to one another until the water grew tepid and their hands and feet were pruny. Then, they wrapped themselves up in their fluffy house-robes and stood shoulder to shoulder on their balcony, cradling cups of chamomile tea and watching, pensive, as the steam disappeared into the lightly-falling snow.

“How is it?” asked Byleth, inhaling the drink’s comforting scent.

Dimitri took a sip and hummed in appreciation. “Lovely as the one who prepared it.”

Byleth leaned her head on his shoulder. Was she allowed to be this happy?

As if he could read her mind, Dimitri leaned his head on top of hers, and they spent a long while in comfortable silence, enjoying their tea and their good company. “Can you promise me something?” Dimitri asked long after their cups had been set aside.

“Anything,” was Byleth’s instant reply.

Dimitri took her hand and lifted it to his heart. “No matter what life demands of us, let us always make time for mornings like these. If I can look forward to sweet moments with you, I’ll have the strength to endure anything.”

“What a beautiful thought. I agree.” Byleth smiled.

“Do I get a reward for my good idea?” Dimitri teased, his nose brushing against hers. Byleth rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep her smile at bay as she melted into his chamomile kisses. Maybe she had joked about it in the past, but she had truly found the love of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's the end! :)
> 
> In my head, the last smut section was where they conceived their first son, Elias Jeralt Bladdyd. If anyone's interested in an epilogue oneshot with a Dimileth family, let me know.
> 
> Otherwise, thank you so much for coming on this journey with me, the next fic will be Golden Deer-focused, as there is an idea that's been cooking in my brain for quite some time. Hope everyone's 2020 gets off to a great start.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y’all liked it! This chapter was wholesome, next one will be spicy ;)


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